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The dark pink, gloomy, dew-infested morning of South Park was dawning on Eric and Stan. They were the first to wake up from the sleepover they were having at Cartman's house -- It was about 6 in the morning, unusually early for any of them. Stan was still tucked into his sleeping bag on the floor, breathing steadily, not knowing if anyone else was awake. Eric was still trying to go back to sleep, desperate to get the extra hours in, as he knew he was in for a rough school day from staying up watching movies with the rest of the guys. And how he despised not getting proper "beauty sleep".
Stan waited for the right moment to slip out of his sleeping bag, little by little shifting out of his position. The crinkling of the cheap, plastic bedding was annoyingly loud. He anxiously turned to see if anyone else was awake, and much to his relief the snoring could still be heard. With a small sigh, he quietly slips out of the room, tip toe-ing into the hallway, unsure of what to do.
Eric watched as Stan left, brows furrowing. Stan was usually the heaviest sleeper, as he recalls putting multiple toys and various objects on stan's head with the others to see if he would wake up. And anyway, that hippie is just freeloading in my house!
He (a LOT sloppier than Stan) rushed out of his sleeping bag and stepped over the slumbering Kyle and Kenny. The daywalker shifted a little and mumbled something hostile under his breath, which caught Eric off guard. But he decided not to pry it this time. He'd rip on him later. Right now he needed to catch a wild hippie and some breakfast.
"What are you doing fag-boy?" He spat at Stan, who turned around to look at him in the middle of the room. "Don't call me a fag, Cartman! I couldn't go to sleep. I had some bullshit nightmare about that dumbass fish again." Eric sleepily rolled his eyes, making exaggerations with his hands. "Ooooh, Stanny-Boy had a nightmare! I guess that means he can just walk into mah house and make himself at hewm without permissieeen!" Stan pinched his bridge, annoyed. "Look, I'm sorry I came out here first, dude. Do I have permission to roam the rest of your house?" Eric put a finger on his chin and looked up to the ceiling. "Hmmmm, let me think..." "Cartman." "Fiiiine, fine." Eric raises his hands, dropping them down again and plopping on the couch. "At least make me a bowl of cereal, hippie. My house, my rules." Stan opened his mouth to protest, before realizing any arguments with him would be pointless. "God dammit." Stan remarks, walking over to the kitchen to fulfill King Cartman's lazy demand.
Eric waits on the couch, twiddling his thumbs as he overhears the sound of ceramic, crinkling bags, and the clank of a spoon hitting a bowl. Stan walks over and gives Cartman the bowl of cereal after setting a separate one for himself down, sitting next to him. "Here's your cereal, fatass." Cartman reaches over to pat Stan on the head, tilting his head in a sarcastic manner. "Why thank yew, Stan! I hope you didn't get your freaky cooties in mah cereal." Stan remained silent, picking up his bowl as Cartman flicked the TV on. "Weak, do they just have nothing on right now? This is the worst schedule of channels I've seen. All they have on are soap operas and weird ads for erectile dysfunction." Eric said, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. "They don't even have Terrance and Phillip, this is some sick shit, dude!" Stan replied, as Eric threw the remote control to the side and letting the South Park news channel play. The two turned to face each other this time, as they had nothing else to do.
"How come you're up too, anyways? Did I like, wake you up or something?" Stan asked. "Nah, I was trying to go back to sleep but the air was too humid. Too many stinky kids in the room with me." He sighed, leaning on the couch arm. Stan rolled his eyes. "Well, thanks for letting me come. I keep having these weird nightmares and it's better when I'm hanging out with you guys." "Yeah, yeah. You're too soft a boy, Stan." He points over to him lazily. "Shut up." Stan snickers.
The two sit in silence. Eric begins to wonder why he's never spent a lot of time alone with Stan. They've been friends since they were all babies, but he's never noted how peaceful it can be with Stan. Sure he likes ripping on Kyle, but Stan has a tenderness that intrigues Cartman. Not as easy to piss off, mellow, easygoing, but still defensive. He's never really hated Stan, nor has Stan really hated Cartman. They had some uncanny, equal understanding for each other. But they never hung out that much one-on-one.
"Uh, Cartman?" Eric snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he was staring. "Uh, sorry hippie. I'm a little more tired than what I bargained for." "Yeah, it's fine. When is your mom gonna be up?" Stan finished his bowl of cereal, putting it on the coffee table before them. "Not for a while, why?" "I'm gonna try to get packing soon. I might as well get ready for school on my way home." "You're leaving?" Cartman asks, a little too somberly. Stan cocks his brow at cartman, a bit surprised by the tone. "Uh...I guess so? Unless you want me to stay, that's fine too." The raven-haired boy scoots over to Eric, his brown eyes shifting onto him to wait for him to make a decision. "Uh, no, you can go. I've had enough of your AIDS." Eric crosses his arms, looking away as he tries to hide his face, a red tint glowing on his cheeks.
Stan almost feels bad for the boy. He's never reacted that way to the guys leaving. Why now?
"I...just remembered. My dog Sparky hates when I come home early from sleepovers." It's a lousy excuse, but it'll do. Stan waited for Eric to respond.
"Soooo...Freeloading more, huh?" Eric looked back to Stan, a shit-eating grin across his face. "Whatever, fatass."
The two grow more and more tired, flipping through Cartman's comic books and eventually adlibbing the characters, snickering as they say crude and crass things in place of the dialogue. Eventually, Stan gives into the tiredness, and leans onto Eric, his breathing slow and steady. Eric's face is bright red at this point, his sweaty palms nearly staining his comic book. He's never noticed how Stan smells. Earthy, almost smokey. Comforting. Usually, he'd worry about Stan's greasy hair giving him pimples, but now, all he wants to do is lean further into Stan, curling up alongside him and listening to his gentle heartbeat.
There's no way that this isn't a feeling everyone gets with their friend, right? It's not like Eric is some kissboy, let alone to a mopey, emotional butthole who looks more homeless than Kenny everytime he's dumped by Wendy. But maybe he doesn't even want Wendy to love Stan. Maybe he wants to hear his heartbeat every morning. Maybe he wants to--
"BBLLLLEEEUGH!"
The next thing the brunette knew, his lap was full of vomit. Cartman audibly scoffed, nearly yelling. "AUGH! What the hell, asshole?! I thought you were asleep!" "I'm sorry, dude! I didn't know what to do!" Stan replies, looking surprised at the sight the two were both sharing. In your FRIEND'S lap? Nice one, Stan. He thought to himself. "Stan, get me a towel. RIGHT NOW. You're cleaning up this nasty shit." Cartman put his hands on his head so Stan couldn't see, his eyes wide from shock and disgust. Doesn't he only do that to Wendy?
Stan bolted from the couch and returned with a towel, wiping up the bile from Cartman's PJs. It was a gruesome sight, and the smell wasn't all that great, either. Cartman went into the bathroom to change, and Stan waited back in the living room.
God damn it, I'm so fucking stupid. I know I get nervous around Wendy, but why with Cartman...? I mean, he was holding me pretty close...But when Kyle and I fall asleep I never throw up.
Stan started to think more. And more. And more. Trying to find some reason as to why he was so nauseous. His breath? His overall presence? His brown, well-kept hair? The way his arms enveloped Stan's to keep him from falling over? The warmth coming from Cartman's flustered cheeks? Wait. Fuck. This can't be happening.
Before he could ruminate once more about his unsanitary habit, the bathroom door creaked open and Cartman had changed into a simple Terrance and Phillip T-Shirt with a pair of jeans, a glass of water in hand. "Jesus Christ, Stan. At least warn me next time. I almost lost my own breakfast looking at that nasty crap." He snapped.
"I'm so sorry, dude, I-I seriously don't know what got into me! I never do that." He exclaimed. Cartman wordlessly gave the glass of water to Stan, and he graciously took a few gulps before setting it down. "Maybe the cereal was bad, or something.." Stan added. "Whatever, hippie. Just don't puke on me again. You're lucky I'm not kicking you out just for that."
Eric and Stan locked eyes with each other in a semi-awkward position. Neither of them were sure what to do next.
"Um, thanks for the water. I know this was a shitty way of hanging out, but, maybe we should hang out more often. Just you and me. We're always hanging out with the other guys, but we've never really hung out together for long. This was nice." Stan gave a weak smirk, heat rising into his cheeks, only faintly.
"Jesus, are you ALWAYS this sappy, Marsh? Yeah, yeah. Hang out more, whatever. The others sound like they're awake now." Eric tilts his head towards the sound of Kyle and Kenny briefly speaking to each other, before wandering out into the hallway.
"There you guys are! We were wondering why it was just me and Kenny. Did Stan throw up or something?" Kyle rubbed his eyes, immediately getting hit by the sight of a stained, green-and-yellow towel with colorful pieces inside. Fruit loops, no doubt.
"Nasty hippie couldn't keep it to himself. Anyway, you're one to talk when you wear a throw-up colored hat to school everyday, Jersey." "Oh fuck off, Cartman." Kyle growls. "It's 8 in the morning. I need to get home." "Yeah, me too. Thanks for letting us sleep over, Cartman." Kenny exclaims as he nears the door with his sleeping bag. "See you guys at school." Kyle joins Kenny out to the front yard, going their separate ways.
"Uh, I guess I should get going too. I really hope we don't have any serious classes today. I'm not gonna be able to pay attention at all." Stan wished, running his hand through his sloppy hair. "Uh...cool. Bye Stan." Cartman awkwardly states, watching as Stan grabs his things like the others and leaves.
Cartman wants to say something to Stan, maybe hold him back, touch his shoulder, anything. But he's not sure what he wants. Or if Stan wants the same thing. And so, he watches the boy as he walks into the street, and out of sight.
God damn it.